Well, I’m certainly glad that I didn’t take Sammy up on his offer. Pamela traced idle patterns on her bare stomach, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. The television mounted on the wall flickered, its images dancing across the bedroom unnoticed. Outside, that pack of coyotes started up again, their yips and yowls filtering through the half-open window. Never thought I’d miss the sound of Dad’s old lawnmower or the boring buzz of suburbia, but here I am.
Pamela drew in a lungful of oxygen. Gone were the damp, grassy notes of home, replaced by something dry and sharp – was that piñon pine? Eyes now veiled behind closed lashes, she conjured sounds of her old life: the hum of cicadas, a car cruising down her neighborhood street, the clatter of skateboards on the sidewalk. But when she opened her eyes, reality crashed back. The vast desert landscape beyond her window was a far cry from Maryland, but then again, so was her new profession.
Sammy’s indecent proposal from Wednesday evening played on autoloop in her mind. “Five grand in cash, Dakota. Three nights at The Venetian Las Vegas, just you and me. The money would be tax-free. I’ll pay for all the food, all the entertainment. I’ll take you on a thousand-dollar shopping spree too. You’d be crazy to pass this up.”
God, was it tempting. Sammy had dangled the offer like a forbidden fruit, ripe for the picking. But something about his aggressive nature and the look in his eyes – a predatory glint that spoke of ownership rather than partnership – gave her pause. He seemed like a good man, but I … I didn’t know if I could trust him. My gut kept screaming at me to tell him no.
Even when Sammy doubled down, increasing his offer to ten thousand, Pamela’s resolve didn’t waver. I wonder what Colt would think or do if I told Sammy yes and agreed to meet him in Vegas for sex. She flipped onto her side, taking the pillow with her. Would I be out of a job now? Still, no one had ever offered her such exorbitant money.
Sammy purchased two hours (paying $500 total) and promised Pamela he would come back in the future to party with her again. “Sweet Jesus, you’re a find. Eighteen and still got that new car smell. Fresh face, tight body, and probably still believe in fairytales. God, I love this whorehouse.” He gestured a little too excitedly and nearly toppled off the bar stool. “Can’t wait until I get to fuck you again, darlin’. Might even bring a friend next time named Marvin – we’ll see if you can handle two dicks at once.”
Yeeeeeah … something was off about that guy. In the corridor, exaggerated giggles and the clip-clop of high heels announced yet another girl escorting a john to her room. You know what? Colt was right. What would happen if Sammy turned out to be a deranged psychopath and Pamela found herself alone in a hotel room with him? May never get out. Or any other potential off-the-books client? At least here, there are rules, people to back me up. And Colt to protect me. Pamela hugged the pillow to her chest, a lifeline in the darkness. Thank God I said no to Vegas.
Many of the faces and names from the past seven days had begun to blend together, a fuzzy carousel spinning in her mind. I’ve been with three guys already tonight. No, wait. Four. Is it four? Pamela covered her eyes with both hands as she mentally ticked off names. Kenny, Joe, Doug, and yeah, Johnathan. That’s four.
Pamela rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling as it seemed to ripple and dance above her. Ugh, Doug and that beer belly. Somehow, she could still smell his rancid breath. Eww, foul. Since her arrival, Pamela had fucked fifteen clients. In fact, Jim pulled her aside after the last party and told her she’d grossed more sales than any other girl this week. Yay me, I guess? Head of the class in Dick-Taking One-O-One. Her eyes burned with exhaustion, but sleep felt miles away. It was only one-thirty in the morning. Wonder what Mom and Dad would think if they knew their little girl was the star pupil at Whore High.
She shifted, trying to find a comfortable position in this bed that had seen it all. Justin … sweet guy. Shame I had to shoot him down when he asked if we could date outside the house. Her expression fell into disrepair. He bought three hours. Shit, I hope my refusal doesn’t dissuade him from wanting to party with me again. He’s good money.
Pamela’s toes curled involuntarily. And that guy with the foot fetish. What was his name? She yawned, her jaw cracking like brittle twigs. Whatever, doesn’t matter, but never knew my toes were so ticklish. And my feet too.
“Listen up. Fetish requests like that?” William summoned Pamela into his office afterward. “You always add a premium price tag whenever a perp asks for something kinky or out there like toe sucking. Milk ‘em dry. No exceptions, you hear me?” William glared at her without blinking. “You skimp on charges, you’re robbing me. And trust me, Chesapeake, you don’t want to know what happens to girls who steal from me.”
In the bedroom, Pamela closed her eyes and inhaled a deep breath, holding it in. No wonder Roxanne and Laterika told me that you never want to be called into that man’s office. For anything. Turning her head a fraction and straining to hear the familiar notes of a song emanating from the parlor, Pamela looked skyward.
Thank God for Colt. Even with William’s looming shadow and intimidating presence, Colt told Pamela never to worry because he wouldn’t allow anything bad to happen to her here. Oh, she’d heard the stories about how William would bend random girls over the desk in his office at random times and fuck them. Blake said he’s much more than a creepy old man; he’s a monster. “That won’t happen to you,” Colt stressed to Pamela this morning. “I swear, it won’t, so stop worrying.”
She clung to those words now, even as fear gnawed at the edges of her mind. Brindle said it would be different if William paid us for our time, even if just the house minimum, but he takes whatever he wants for free. In this lion’s den, Colt was Pamela’s only trusted ally. But was he strong enough to stand against the apex predator if push came to shove? Pamela’s hands trembled as she pulled the bed sheet around herself, as if it stood any chance of warding off the chill of uncertainty seeping into her bones. I mean, I like Colt. But I don’t want to fuck his dad.
Additional flashes of the past week flickered through her mind like a broken film reel. Has it really been fifteen guys like Jim said? Fifteen faces, fifteen bodies, fifteen dicks inside me.
Rhett. The name hit her like an uppercut to the chin. That lowlife piece of shit. She’d only stepped away for a moment to use the restroom, but it was long enough. The image of Rhett hunched over her phone, guilt plastered across his face when their eyes met, would be forever seared into her memory banks. My pics, my texts, Mom and Dad’s numbers … oh God. Panic clawed at her throat, a cold sweat breaking out on her forehead.
Sure, Colt ended the party on the spot, tossing Rhett out on his ass and threatening him never to come back. But the damage may have already been done. Damn, damn, damn, double damn. Pamela’s heart rattled its cage. Please, God, don’t let him have my real name. Or those photos Roxanne took of me. Fuck, Mom would die if she saw those. The possibilities and their consequences continued to spiral, leaving Pamela even more dizzy. How could someone violate my privacy like that? Even worse, Rhett seemed like the perfect gentleman beforehand. Brindle says that none of these men are to be trusted.
Guess there’s no point in worrying about it, huh? Jackie was right, I guess. What’s done is done. Her lips twisted, rearranged. I’m keeping my phone with me at all times whenever I’m seeing a client from now on. And to be even safer, she’d encrypted it with a passcode too.
Sammy fucked me, in what? Eight different positions? At least that thought tweaked Pamela’s lips to the side. Wow, that night was incredible. How can one man have so much stamina? In the morning, when Pamela awoke, she could barely walk. Glad that was my only party that day.
Paul from New York claimed that Pamela was his first sexual partner since his wife passed away in an automobile accident two years prior. Pamela recalled Paul crying before, during, and after the party. She’d thought of him as a sweet, but lonely man, clearly with issues, but also reminded herself he could be putting on a façade, too, just like Rhett. Gotta keep a professional distance at all times.
Yet, with all this dick being thrown at her, from literally every angle, why had Pamela yet to snatch the one she desired most?
Blood tore through her vessels. Colt. The ridiculous desire to throw herself into his arms and ravage him with kisses crossed her mind. Again. There had to be some underlying romantic current brewing between them, right? Or am I just hallucinating? Pamela swore she saw it in his eyes every time they’d been together. This celibacy act of his was playing with her senses, her very sanity. Roxanne doesn’t understand why he hasn’t jumped me yet. Hell, from what Pamela had been told, Colt – and William and Jim, too, for that matter – gave every turnout the proverbial test drive within one to two days of their hire date.
Remember, Colt promised to protect you from William. The thought flashed through Pamela’s mind as she gulped ice-cold water, the chill a stark contrast to the heat rising in her cheeks. Hours ago, she’d spotted Colt strutting into the parlor, looking like a daydream in crisp white chinos and a black shirt that clung to his lean, yet muscular chest. Pamela’s sweet talk to beer-breathed Doug faltered, her eyes and brain wandering even as she mouthed hollow praise, her focus completely hijacked by Colt’s presence.
That is one sexy, sexy man. Why did she feel nerves tickling at her throat? Roger had been a good boyfriend, the star football player, but Pamela knew from the outset that their relationship wouldn’t extend past high school. Was it wrong of me to basically use Roger for financial gain during our final two months? She needed a dick to suck on and fuck during her live webcamming sessions on Streamate, right? God, those lonely creeps would literally throw money at their screen just to see a dick in my mouth.
,After agreeing to discuss financials with Doug in her bedroom, she stole one more glance of Colt before exiting the parlor, noticing he was tension personified, jaw tight enough to crack walnuts. Was he angry? Jealous, perhaps? Oh, honey, I hope so. Green would be a good color for you.
Back in the current moment, Pamela felt a pull in her belly. She longed to touch Colt, place her fingertips on his pecs and slide around them to his back, and reel him close. Tattoos had never caught Pamela’s eye before, yet on Colt, they exuded a rugged charm and a good kind of danger. A danger that perfectly aligned with the wicked fantasies she’d harbored for seven days … and counting.
Wearing a silky two-piece lingerie set, Pamela cupped her breast with one hand, thumb grazing the nipple through delicate fabric. The other danced lower, skimming her ribs, traversing her abdomen and the curve of her hip, before dipping between her thighs. She shivered as her fingertips met a smooth, freshly waxed pussy.
No, what I did with Roger wasn’t wrong. Look at all the times he got to fuck me. For free, even. As fingers began to swirl on her clitoris, images of Colt threatened to overwhelm Pamela’s senses. Why haven’t you made a move on meeeee? All the signals were there. What are you waiting for? Her hips undulated as she lost herself in the act of masturbation. Why hadn’t he claimed her yet, when any other man would’ve pounced on the opportunity? Hell, he’s banged every other girl in the house.
Fuck me, baby. Ruin me.
Pamela’s back arched high off the bed, her breathing coming in short gasps as she neared the precipice of release. Just a little more, just a few more seconds and –
“Dakota, honey, you awake?” Mindy’s sharp voice cut through the haze of pleasure like a bucket of ice water to the face. The rapid-fire knocking that followed mimicked the pulsing ache between Pamela’s thighs. “There’s a gentleman at the bar looking to party with you. Says he knows it’s late but will make it worth your while.” The knocking intensified. “You awake? Come on, clock’s ticking. This cash cow may wander if you don’t come out and shake your moneymaker at him soon. You snooze in this business, you lose, babygirl.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m awake.” Good God. This had already been the most physically (and mentally) grueling day of Pamela’s life, yet they expected her to perform for another client? At one-forty-five in the morning? You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.
Mustering what little energy she had left, her feet hit the floor. I’m so sore; my back hurts. Getting out of bed proved far more difficult than any early school morning home in Maryland. Where is Colt? I wish I could crawl into his arms and sleep for like, the next forty-eight hours. “Give me a few minutes, okay? I’ll be out soon.”
“Hurry,” Mindy said. “Don’t keep this guy waiting.”
“Ouch, my back.” As she stumbled toward the dresser, Pamela caught sight of herself in the mirror. Smudged mascara, tangled hair, and eyes that looked a hundred years old stared back at her. And for the first time, doubt began to creep in. How could she keep up with the demands here? Or would things become easier with more experience? What I wouldn’t give for some of Mom’s home-cooked food right about now. The breakneck pace, the merry-go-round of men, the expectation to always be at her best – it all suddenly felt overwhelming. Did I make a terrible mistake coming to Happy Ending Ranch after all? Her heart was rapping against her ribs, ringing in her ears.
Can’t think about that right now, I suppose. She reached for her make-up bag. I got a job to do. What awaited her set off an avalanche of uncontrollable shivers. Time to slap on that warpaint and take dick number sixteen.
(End of Chapter Eight - to be continued)
